Swallowed By Night

Prologue

Not many people can say they witnessed the end of the world.

I did. And believe me, it’s not something to brag about.

The piercing noise of a siren filled our house, startling me awake and causing a paralyzing fear to seep into my core. My father’s frightened expression materialized before me, his brow creased with worry.

“Wha-what’s going on?” My heart pounded in my chest, a rapid rhythm echoing in my ears as I sat up. Something was wrong.

“Mom’s packing a bag. Get dressed—we have to get to the shelter in town.” My dad’s trembling voice cracked as he spoke, and he immediately erupted into a fit of coughs. “And put your mask on.”

For over a year, we’d been living in a deadly pandemic.

Masks became a constant accessory whenever we were in the presence of others, and leaving the house only happened when it was absolutely essential.

Scientists called the sickness brETH, an ironic name for a substance that invaded the lungs and airways, constricting the flow of air.

Conspiracy theorists circulated rumors, suggesting the sickness was manufactured, although there was little evidence to support their claims.

My father’s worried face told me everything I needed to know and made my heart rate skyrocket—this was serious.

Sliding out of bed, the icy floor sent shockwaves through my warm toes.

A shiver traveled up my body, and my shoulders tensed as I hastily made my way to the dresser.

I quickly yanked a hoodie over my head, feeling its soft fabric brush against my cheeks, and pulled a pair of jeans over my underwear.

Ravaging my dresser, I threw a few warm sweaters, pants, and a small pouch of emergency toiletries into an old backpack that was haphazardly tossed into the corner of my bedroom. “Are we under attack?”

Flickering shadows danced in our kitchen, where my father was frantically rushing around, grabbing papers from his desk and stuffing them into his briefcase. He paused for a moment and turned his bespectacled face in my direction. “It’s happening. We need to get to a shelter.”

Since the pandemic had started, a world war had been brewing, and the United States was on high alert for any signs of terrorist activity.

Each day, mass panic spread throughout the world as bank accounts froze, websites went dark, and browsers crashed, leaving the internet inaccessible.

It was declared a global cyberattack, spurring nations to ready their armies and nuclear arsenals for retaliation, despite no one knowing who was behind it.

With Wi-Fi and streaming as their only source, the televisions transformed into expensive rectangles, serving as wall decorations in every household.

As a result, radio broadcasts and newspapers regained popularity.

Tonight, the radio blared at full volume, and a monotone male voice crooned through the speakers, “This is a Wartime Broadcasting Service. A nuclear attack is imminent. Seek shelter immediately.”

I instinctively reached into my back pocket to find my phone, its sleek screen casting a soft glow in the dim light surrounding me.

I skimmed the defunct apps before clicking into my texts.

Since the internet went out, my attempts to send texts had been futile, but I’d made sure to keep my phone charged to scroll through old photos.

It made me feel less alone.

I held hope that one day my texts would go through, especially in an emergency.

My fingers glided over the screen like an Olympic figure skater before I pressed send on the text I’d been typing to my boyfriend, hoping he and his family were safe.

I held my breath, willing it to go through, but my hopes were dashed when a red exclamation mark appeared next to my unsent message.

When the pandemic hit and technology still worked, Gabe and I were forced to spend a couple of weeks apart.

We found solace in phone conversations that lasted hours every night, even when the world seemed to be in a constant state of chaos.

The long-distance dating was fine until it reached a point where I couldn’t resist the urge to lay my eyes on him.

To touch him. I felt safe when I was with him, even when havoc was being wrought around me.

We agreed to meet at a town park nearby, and from then on, I’d pop the screen from my bedroom window and sneak out to see him.

Even though my father had no issue with me being gay, if he knew I was sneaking out to blow my boyfriend, I’d never hear the end of it.

“C’mon, let’s get going.” My dad’s gaze met my hands clutching the cell phone. “Why do you have that? You know it doesn’t work.”

“Gabe,” I breathed. “I was hoping I could give him a heads-up about where we were going.”

His face softened. “Vinny, I know you’re concerned, but trust me, he’ll be fine.” He could sense my uncertainty from the mixed emotions displayed on my face. “Don’t you think he’d want you to stay safe?”

One of the many amazing things about him was his ability to convince anyone to do anything, which is why he was so successful at work. He gave me a sympathetic sideways smile as if to acknowledge the internal battle I was facing, but our primary focus needed to be on our well-being.

And he was right.

Walking into the kitchen, I saw my mother checking to make sure the oven was off, even though we hadn’t used it today. She was stunning, and we always joked that she resembled a delicate Victorian doll, but in reality, her beauty surpassed anything I’d ever seen.

“Ready?” Her brown doe eyes were large and frightened. “We don’t have much time.”

“Let’s go.” My dad wrapped his fingers around his jangling keys and sprinted outside.

With haste, I stomped out the front door, the sound of the frozen wooden steps groaning beneath me.

My dad was already in the driver’s seat, and the engine was humming.

The moment I reached the last step, my foot unexpectedly slipped on the icy surface, forcing me to grab onto the railing with my arm to maintain my balance.

“Hurry up!” My dad’s breath created a plume of smoke as he yelled out the window. “And be careful, it’s slippery!”

As my mom gracefully slid around the hood of the car, I hurriedly shuffled my feet toward the nearest door. The cold metal of the handle touched my palm, and a loud crackling sound filled the air when the layer of ice shattered and fell away.

“We’re all in. Go, go, go!” My mom’s voice was shrill as she yelled to my father.

My body quivered, unable to distinguish between the freezing temperatures and the overwhelming fear of what was happening.

We were in the midst of a possible nuclear attack.

The government recommended drills to ensure we had a viable evacuation plan, but no simulation was never like this.

It was evident my parents shared the same fears as I did, though they tried to hide it.

“Honey, can you drive faster?”

“The road’s too slick.” His eyes never left the road, never to so much as blink. “Both of you, put your seatbelts on.”

The dark street was shrouded in a layer of white snow, giving the scene an eerie glow as we drove.

Our car approached the stop sign at the end of our street, and its rear wheels suddenly jerked to the right, causing it to slide through the intersection.

My hand instinctively grasped the seatbelt crossing my chest before the car came to a halt.

From the front seats, both my parents let out a long breath of relief.

Thump, thump. My cheeks grew hot, and the beating of my heart was all I could hear. After what felt like an eternity, I finally exhaled the breath I’d been holding, desperate to steady my racing heart.

We continued to drive toward town, inching our way down the street as the endless expanse of the black road stretched ahead.

Mounds of snow flanked the darkened street and twisted trees, their branches reaching out like long, bony fingers, ready to snatch us away.

Everyone in the car was silent, except for the occasional deep cough from my father that pierced the stillness.

I knew that once we reached town from our country home, we’d probably have to abandon the car, but it was eerie not to see a single headlight besides our own, and for the next mile or so, nothing else stirred in the darkness.

At least nothing else we knew of.

In normal weather conditions, it would take five minutes to reach town, but tonight, it seemed unlikely we would make much faster.

Out of my peripheral vision, a red light flashed through the night.

I squinted, straining my eyes to make out any shapes in the pitch-black darkness. “What’s out there?”

My mother turned her head and gasped, causing my dad to quickly divert his attention from the road.

The car lurched forward, indicating he’d put more pressure on the gas pedal.

A sudden burst of red light illuminated the darkness, causing me to hold my breath in fear of being surrounded by whatever lurked in the shadows.

A sense of foreboding slowly seeped into my very being as tears pricked my eyes.

We were passing a large, red barn that sat on top of a hill, surrounded by perfectly shaped pine trees.

I knew we were getting closer to town once I saw the outline of the nostalgic Christmas tree farm we frequented every winter.

The road, which had been flat and even for miles, finally started to descend.

Red and blue lights blinked across the farm to our left, indicating a police vehicle coming down the road that merged with ours.

A cluster of red lights illuminated an open field to our right, and as our headlights reached the top of the hill, it felt like all eyes were on us.

We zoomed down the icy hill, feeling the useless pump of the brakes as we tried to control the vehicle. The red lights from the field menacingly advanced toward the road, causing my father’s breathing to grow heavier. Fidgeting with his glasses, he muttered something indiscernible under his breath.

“What’s wrong, Sal?” My mother’s voice trembled, and her eyes never left the lights outside. “What are you saying about Dante?”

My dad opened his mouth to answer, but instead, a piercing scream escaped his lips.

Out of nowhere, a colossal gray creature leaped in front of our car, its glaring red eyes staring us down.

The air was filled with the sound of screeching tires against ice as my father twisted the steering wheel, causing our car to veer off course.

The last thing I knew was the fear in my mom’s face and the sound of metal crunching. She’d turned around to look at me, making sure I was okay. Then the impact jerked my body, hitting my head against the window before everything went black.

I knew I’d been unconscious for a while, yet it felt like only seconds had passed. The sounds of hurried footsteps echoed around me before a man shouted to someone nearby. “He’s conscious!”

As more people ran to me, their footsteps and chattering grew louder.

I wanted to ask what happened and where I was, but my brain wouldn’t allow my mouth to work.

I assumed I was in a medical facility, judging by the beeping and sterile smell around me, but each attempt to focus my eyes sent nausea surging through me, blurring my vision in a dizzying swirl.

A sudden chill made me shake involuntarily, sending a jolting shiver through my body.

“He’s in shock—bring more heated blankets!” An authoritative woman’s voice rang through the area. “How are the other two? Status, please!”

“This one has brETH,” a man yelled to her. “His license says his name is Salvatore Asposito. We’re pulling his medical records, but he’s losing blood rapidly. I don’t think he has much time.”

Feet shuffled toward the woman next to me. “She didn’t make it.”

What are they talking about? Who was she?

A wave of nausea washed over me as I realized they were talking about my mother, my breath coming in short, shallow breaths.

Could it be true she was dead? I strained my ears, trying to pick up any word, any whisper, any sound that might offer a glimmer of hope about my father or confirmation of my mother’s death.

The looming reality of losing both parents pressed down on me, a suffocating weight of grief and fear.

She sighed in frustration. “These two, the father and son, have the same blood type. Let’s begin a transfusion. Hopefully we can save him.”

There was a slight tug on my arm as it was lifted, and I felt a slight pinch before my vision went dark once again.

“This is working,” the woman announced. “His body is taking well to the blood.” I strained to catch every word of the frantic whispers around me. I finally heard her confused voice command those around her: “Test again for brETH.”

The room went silent, and my heart dropped. Was my father dead? What were they testing for?

As I drifted into unconsciousness, the voice of the woman doctor was a mixture of confusion and relief. “He…doesn’t have a trace of brETH left in his body. Is he the cure?”

And from that moment, I knew this was going to be an issue.